Pokemon: Fires of Meiserland
by Sudentor
Summary: When the Kingdom of Toria launches an attack on the capital of the Federal Republic of Owa, Meiserland, Pokemon spearhead the assault. Several trainers are caught in the crossfire that they didn't start. A mature insight into a possible Pokemon universe.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, or Pokeballs. That's Nintendo stuff. The world, the plot, and the characters, however, are my creation.

Author's Note: The story depicted here will be Pokemon in a more mature setting. The theme here is "What if Pokemon were used in modern warfare?" This will undoubtedly be more bloody and unfriendly compared to your conventional Pokemon story. Reader discretion is advised.

**Fires of Meiserland  
By Ysionris Gavotte  
**

**Prologue**

Despite knowing the possible dangers, there was no actual way I could figured out that things would go down badly on July 8th, 2015. The funny thing was that, when it happened, I was breaking up with my girlfriend.

Now, don't get things wrong. Karen Ginou and I have gotten along very well for the last couple of years. We've been together since middle school, started hitting off fine. There have been a few bumps in the road, but otherwise, nothing that would indicate an actual break up. No, we simply met up with a pragmatic, conventional, and realistic problem of something called "future". Karen had managed to do extraordinarily well in the OCEE, and received admissions from the Meiserland Capital School of Polytechnics. I, meanwhile? Don't ask. Between going to a second-rate college, and traveling the world and trying to become a Pokemon Master, I chose the latter.

Don't think it was an easy choice. True, I've taken the IPPL Exam in the sixth grade and got my license with high scores. I've signed up for every field trip that would involve the catching of Pokemon. I spent every three months a year doing internships with the Aegis Pokemon Research Organization for extra credit to make up for the near-disastrous grades I made in high school. I brought a Totodile as my starting Pokemon and managed to evolve it into a Feraligatr. I caught my Growlithe and Nidoran legitimately with the APRO, and evolved them too with their help into Arcanine and Nidoking, respectively. They gave me a Haunter as a going-away present after I finished up with my last internship six months ago, which evolved into a Gengar. Skarmory I won at a tournament in Meiserland, Gardevoir I received from a friend as a parting gift when he was lying on a hospital bed, dying from a fatal car accident.

I won't delude myself into thinking I managed to do this all with my own power. I managed to make the right friends in APRO, which got me a lot to work with. At the age of eighteen, I was in possession of some of the most impressive Pokemon ever, Pokemon that most trainers get years after they start their journey. APRO even offered to sponsor me, a rare opportunity amongst prospective trainers out of high school, if I ever decided to try to become a Pokemon Master after high school, an offer I had not yet taken up, but had told them I'd think about it.

Despite all this, though, I can't say becoming a Pokemon Master was my first choice of occupation. I'm certain that, somewhere along the line of my life, it had been. But during high school, I've started wondering if I was the sort of type to leave home and be completely committed to my own resources and finances to travel the world and attempt to become a Pokemon Master. An _Horizons_ article once said that, out of the population of Owa, two million people aspire to become a Pokemon trainer each year, but only about forty percent of them actually pass the International Personal Pokemon License Exam each year. Only ten percent of these people are committed to pursuing their dreams of becoming a Pokemon Master by the time they are eighteen, the minimum age required for the International Pokemon Association to officially recognize your journey and upgrade your license as well as provide you with travel papers. Another ninety percent is wiped off the remaining candidates, hopeful trainers who do not have the resources or funds to leave their homes alone. Each year, only eight thousand people out of the initial two million have the will and capability to even try and become a Pokemon Master.

Out of that eight thousand, only five hundred are capable of acquiring eight Gym Badges to participate in the yearly Emerald Cup Competition of the Pokemon League in the neutral nation of Istorius. Twenty percent of the candidates of the Emerald Cup manage to make it to the semi-finals; those twenty-five-or-so individuals who make it to the semi-finals are officially recognized as Pokemon Masters despite what happens in the Emerald Cup. With only about twenty-five people out of the initial two million (well, eight thousand now, since I've got my license and have the capability to leave Meiserland), you understand my skeptical train of thought when I wonder if I'll be one of those lucky twenty-five.

But my failure to get decent scores on the Owan College Entrance Examination pretty much doomed me to second or third-rate colleges, something that I, nor my parents, was very happy about. I had always envisioned myself going to the same school as Karen, but now, I've decided that my only real future was not with mainline education, but with my obsession with Pokemon.

Right then, however, I was waiting in the Cait Sith Cafe, downtown, on the western part of the city. I had already taken a table for two, and was waiting for Karen to show up. It was a table next to the window, not a shabby choice for a seating arrangement at all. I was, at the time, carrying all six of my Pokemon, all of them in their Pokeballs attached to a locking holder on my belt. Owa had laws about what kind of Pokemon could be let out of their Pokeballs in public, unspecified areas. Arcanine, Feraligatr, and Nidoking were all Class A Size Pokemon, too large to be permitted to be walking around on the streets. Gardevoir and Skarmory were Class B Size Pokemon, permitted on the streets, but the Cait Sith had a sign indicating that only Class C Size Pokemon were allowed out of their Pokeballs. Gengar was the only Pokemon that wouldn't have problems with size, him being Class C Size, but Gengars were classified as Class A Temper, which generally makes it a bad idea to let him out of a Pokeball in a crowd, especially in an in-door environment such as a cafe.

So it didn't really surprise me when, three minutes later, Karen appeared from the crowd in the street, two Skitties playing with each other as they followed her. Of course, Karen didn't actually have two Skitties; one of them was a Ditto. Both of them were Class C Size, Class C Temper, so it was fine letting them out of their Pokeballs. Special rules applied to Ditto, but Karen's wasn't breaking any. Of course, she could only have two out at any given time in public; having too many Pokemon out on the streets would've been a civil problem.

Her appearance reminded me why I fell in love with her in the first place. With lavender eyes and sea green hair, I wondered where the hell she managed to get those lovely colors, although it was obvious that such colors were common in other countries, less so in Owa. Dressed in a pair of black capris, a baggy violet T-shirt, and wearing a black headband, she seemed more like she was going out for a jog rather than on a date. As for myself? I had the common brown hair and green eyes for an Owan native. This was coupled with a green vest over a white shirt, and black pants. Go simple. Go me.

So I found myself sitting with Karen about two minutes later. Karen had recalled Skitty and Ditto, and was seated across from me. We were awkwardly looking at anywhere but each other before and after we placed our orders, and were trying to find something to say among all the unspoken agreements. We had agreed that long-distance relationships were too much of a hassle to try and continue, and the temptation was always out there. It was less so for me than it was for Karen, since I was going to be traveling the world and not staying in one place for very long, but I've never eliminated the possibility that I may end up traveling with another trainer, a female one at that, to share and save up on costs. Several versions of those "we could always be friends" lines popped into my mind rapidly, but they popped out just as fast as well. I really didn't know what to say.

So I checked my watch. Eleven fifty-eight.

Thankfully, Karen spoke first.

"So," Karen asked, not quite looking at me, but out the window, her eyes distant as if she was deep in thought, "When are you leaving?"

The answer was something I had been working out for a while. I intended to take up on APRO's offer as a sponsor on Monday; today was a Saturday. I had a few friends in APRO that wielded influence in the IPA, and they convinced me that everything, upgraded license, paperwork, funds, will be prepared for me in one month's time. "Just a bit more than a month," I answered, quirking my mouth to the side, "After all my paperwork and everything checks out." My gaze was off towards the cafe; I didn't really want to catch the reflection of Karen's face from the window.

"I see," Karen whispered, seemingly thinking about something.

Again, silence. I desperately wanted to ask Karen to join me, to attempt to become a Pokemon Master with me, but I know it would be pointless and futile, not to mention inconsiderate of me. Karen got in on one of Owa's most prestigious schools; I'm not going to ruin that chance for her to be where she should be.

"I probably won't end up going too far," I assured her, not knowing what kind of comfort that would provide, "I want to start with Owa's gyms before I go south to Seintaria. I'll probably won't travel too far from home. I could always drop by for a visit."

"You," Karen decided to look at me then, and the look on her face told me her mind was now on practical matters, "need to conserve as much money on transportation as possible. Frequent trips back home won't do."

"I've got funds from APRO," I insisted, more for her comfort than for mine, or perhaps the other way around, "They've got most of my expenses covered. It won't be that bad."

Karen shook her head; apparently, she didn't approve. She was always there to turn me away from where I wanted to go to where I needed to go. And the fates be damned, they don't coincide often. That trait of hers was remarkable. "You shouldn't have those kind of distractions," Karen replied adamantly, "Having to make frequent trips back home ruins the point of traveling alone through the world with your Pokemon. You need to put things down so you can pick other things up. This is going to be a lot more important for you than anything else you've come across in your life. You don't need me to walk you through things anymore."

A lecture. It was one of those things I expected out of Karen a lot when we were at a disagreement. I usually got sick of those pretty quick, but this time, it simply served as a reminder of who she was, so I tolerated it, if not appreciated it. I don't think I've ever appreciated that as much as I ever had.

My hand reached out to caress her cheek, perhaps a final sign of affection and gratitude towards her consideration and loyalty towards me, for all our time together. It was something that I wanted to end our relation by, both of us mutually agreeing on something with our feelings and thoughts in sync. A romantic gesture before I did my exit stage right, she exit stage left.

And that was when the world thundered with a great trembling as well as bright flashes of light. The world turned white before it turned black.

* * *

On July 8th, 2015, the armies of the Kingdom of Toria crossed the border and launched an attack on Meiserland, the capital of the Federal Republic of Owa, without a declaration of war.

It was an attack that both made sense and did not. It made sense because Owa and Toria had always been on a political standoff. Owa successfully declared its independence eight-seven years ago with the aid of the neighboring superpower, the Esean Federation. Toria had never formally recognized Owa's independence, although the Treaty of Meiserland in 1945 permitted a ceasefire between the two nations. Meiserland, the wartime capital and eventually the formal federal capital of Owa, was situated much too close to the border, where guns were pointed at each other. It was also right on top of a rich mineral deposit that had driven Toria's economy for centuries.

What didn't make sense was that, for those last seventy years since the Treaty of Meiserland, Owa and Toria had a mutually-beneficial trade relationship. Political analysts were all convinced that the trade between the two nations would thaw the cold reception that each country was giving each other. War was the last thing on everyone's mind.

So when Torian agents smuggled Voltorbs and Electrodes all over Meiserland and detonated them, when Venusaurs that had been gathering solar energy since dawn fired Solarbeams at the city at noon, when Gyradoses suddenly appeared in the Meiserland Bay and fired Hyper Beams at the battleships stationed there, when genetically-cloned Aerodactyls took to the skies for aerial supremacy, they took Owa, as well as the rest of the world, by complete surprise.

And, when all this was happening, I was unconscious.


	2. Chapter One

Author's Note: Forgot to mention earlier. Main protagonists of the story will be based off several of my friends. No, I won't tell you who unless they wish for themselves to be known, but their first names are used. So there.

**Chapter One**

Second Lieutenant Thomas Hunter, callsign Phoenix 2, was not optimistic about his deployment orders. Even as he took off in his AH-64 Apache attack helicopter, Capital Air Command informed them that the nearest airbase, McNealy Airbase, would not be able to dispatch fighter jets to cover their approach. Had Thomas knew that a trainee had crashed during a take-off exercise ten minutes earlier and obstructed the runway, and that the Joint Chiefs were trying to scramble reinforcements from Baron Airbase five hundred miles away, he would not have wondered if Capital Air Command even gave a damn about their capital.

The 227th Phoenix Tactical Squadron of the 23rd Capital Air Defense Force was the only attack helicopter and military outfit standing by at Ingleside Airbase when vague reports of an attack on Meiserland came down. Their order to scramble took place not more than two minutes after the attacks started, and they were in the air five minutes later. An in-flight briefing from the base controller, General Aaron Jordan, informed them the obvious: Meiserland was under attack, and although intelligence reports have yet to confirm the attackers, "the 227th is to operate under the assumption that a Torian military outfit has crossed the border and is invading Meiserland."

"This is Phoenix Leader," Captain Elton Julius, their squadron leader, said over the radio to General Jordan as well as the rest of his squadron, "I have a visual of Meiserland. I see smoke rising from the city."

Thomas could see the city too. It was only ten minutes past noon, yet the blue sky was already divided by a black pillar of smoke rising from the city. From his position, Thomas could see faint traces of fire dancing across the city; it wasn't an inferno, but a testament that the damage had been done. Further flashes from the Meiserland Bay indicated a possible battle there."

"Copy that, Phoenix Leader," General Jordan replied, his voice on the radio stern even through the scratchy transmission, "Intelligence reports indicate that the initial damage was caused by Venusaurs from across the border. Naval Air Force cannot scramble reinforcements at this time; their carrier was sunk by Hyper Beams from various Gyradoses. Toria planned this attack well ahead of time. You guys will be the only military outfit for the next half hour, the absolute tip of the spearhead."

That wasn't comforting to hear. While Thomas knew he was encased in eighteen thousand pounds of sleek advanced attack helicopter more than capable of destroying a battalion of tanks, the idea that four Apaches were up against a Torian surprise attack on the capital was hardly something to be optimistic about.

"Roger that," Elton replied, "Phoenix Squadron, continue on course, bearing two-one-three. Decrease altitude to four-zero-zero feet. Increase speed to one-eight-zero miles per hour. All weapons free, set targeting module to mode gamma to minimize collateral damage."

Thomas obeyed the order as he turned his chopper directly towards downtown Meiserland, and lowered his altitude; it was harder for them to be hit by SAMs flying low. One hundred eighty miles per hour was the maximum "safe" speed that an Apache could go before it got too fast and compromised its structural integrity. His copilot-gunner in front of him, Second Lieutenant Douglas Hughes, released the safeties on all the weapons of the Apache, including a M230 30mm chain gun, Hydra rockets, Hellfire air-to-ground missiles, and Stinger anti-aircraft missiles. It was enough an arsenal to take on a battalion of tanks and even wipe out a small base.

"This is going to be rough," Douglas muttered to Thomas, his eyes set on the smoke rising from Meiserland. Neither Thomas nor Douglas were green; they had partaken in enough small-scale skirmishes to predict that they were facing at least two battalions of tanks and/or infantry, judging by the carnage from a faraway view of the city.

"It is," Thomas agreed, "Transfer the controls for the 30mm to my station."

Usually, it was the responsibility of the gunner in front to handle weapons, including rockets, missiles, and the 30mm chain gun. However, pilots flying risky maneuvers often preferred to use some of the weapons by themselves to synchronize with their fast flying. In Thomas' case, he anticipated having to weave through skyscrapers and streets, which was why he wanted to fly while using the rapid M230 chain gun.

"They're yours," Douglas said after tapping a few controls; the trigger at the fore of Thomas' flight stick glowed red along with another indicator light on his control panel, indicating he had control of the 30mm. A powerful chain gun firing high explosive bullets at 625 rounds per minute, it was the perfect choice against infantry, tanks, and other Pokemon as well.

"This is Phoenix 3," the voice of one of his wingmen came over the radio, "Confirmed that we are now in operational airspace."

Thomas scanned the city, realized that Phoenix 3 was right. Already, they were in the peripheral of the capital, flying above the suburbs of Meiserland. Looking down from his Apache flying only four hundred feet above the suburbs, Thomas saw people below him, civilians, on the streets watching the squadron pass by and fly towards downtown. Thomas vaguely wondered how evacuation efforts were going in the city; it appeared that the order to flee had not yet reached these civilians.

"Hey," Douglas suddenly whispered to Thomas as he squinted, looking at the city ahead, "What's that?"

Thomas squinted as he leaned forward in his cockpit again, straining to catch sight of whatever Douglas was pointing at. He caught it; there were silhouettes against the blue sky, dots flying back and forth over the skyscrapers downtown, barely visible with all the smoke coming up from the city. They were too large to be birds, but too small to be any form of aircraft.

"This is Phoenix 2," Thomas said into the radio, "I have unconfirmed visual of bogeys in operational airspace, bearing two-one-three. Can anyone confirm?"

"This is Phoenix Leader," Elton replied, "I see something up ahead as well. They're not aircraft, and radar is not picking up anything. Possible jamming, activate ECCM."

In a world where electronic warfare had prevailed, modern equipment often relied on radar and other means of electronic detection for advanced weaponry. ECM, electric countermeasures, often prevented much of the modern war equipment, such as radar and radio, from working correctly. ECCM, electric counter-countermeasures, ensured that electronic equipment operated the way they should.

"We're looking into it now, stand by," General Jordan replied curtly, then quickly began consulting a few of his lieutenants. Thomas hoped they could get an answer soon; they were closing in on downtown Meiserland fast. And it wasn't any comfort that activity around the area was increasing as they approached; more dots suddenly flew from downtown towards their direction. It was then that Thomas realized that they were Pokemon.

Problem was, Thomas had no idea which ones they were, certainly not at this range.

"Phoenix Squadron," General Jordan's voice came back on the radio, "The operational airspace has been secured by an unknown number of Pokemon known as Aerodactyls. They are prehistoric Pokemon believed to have been cloned from fragments of DNA. Data is limited, but your objective is to clear the operational airspace of enemy Aerodactyls."

Thomas grimaced at the obvious bad news. He had partaken in many simulations against tanks, other helicopters, even fighter jets, and trained Pokemon...but when it came to Pokemon, Thomas was more familiar in taking out massive ground-based Pokemon like Aggron, which appeared all too often alongside tank battalions. But Thomas had never actually partaken in a simulation against another flying Pokemon, and especially not a prehistoric Pokemon.

But as Phoenix Squadron came over downtown, it became apparent that they were outnumbered by Aerodactyls that soared wildly around them. Thomas counted more than a dozen; they looked like gray lizards with bat wings. Albeit those wings, and their oversized jaws, looked remarkably like saw blades. While Thomas never thought air-based Pokemon would be real threat to a Apache chopper, he was not feeling too optimistic right then. They circled around the Apaches wildly, snapping their jaws in a threatening manner as they got close to the cockpit as if pronouncing their doom.

"We're outnumbered," Elton stated the obvious, "All units, form on my wing. Do not break formation, repeat, do _not_ break formation."

Thomas found the order from his flight lead to be sensible, like every order that Elton gave. They were severely outnumbered by an enemy they were not very sure about. Breaking formation and forcing each Apache to fend for itself was definitely not a good idea. They had a better chance of overlapping their fields of fire if they maintained formation. Better yet, the Aerodactyls seemed to be flying wildly around the Apaches without any clear formation or organization, giving Phoenix Squadron an advantage.

"On your left, Captain," Thomas assured Elton as he positioned his Apache on the squadron's number two position, on the left-rear side of Elton's lead Apache. Elton was leading them into the steel jungle of downtown, leaving his squadron with no choice but to follow and weave through the city streets. While maneuverability was low, it also limited the vectors of attack the Aerodactyls could launch at them. Phoenix Squadron tightened their formation before the two steel-and-glass walls enveloped them on either side. Thomas felt a very self-conscious moment as he dived into a street that was only seventy-five feet wide; the Apache's rotors were forty-eight feet in diameter. The buildings simply flashed by as Thomas struggled with the Apache's controls in the attempt to fit the chopper in.

Aerodactyls trailed after them, keeping their distance right behind the squadron, but a pair of Aerodactyls were flying right ahead of the squadron, within firing range. "Phoenix 2, Phoenix 3," Elton ordered to the two wingmates on the left and right wings of the formation, "Arm Stingers, fire on my command."

Stingers were fire-and-forget air-to-air missiles that targeted heat signatures and electrical impulses, requiring no further guidance from the gunner once it was fired. A guided missile meant to do heavy damage to anything that flew, Stingers were used to take down fighter jets, which was no reason why it could not take down a pair of Aerodactyls.

"I think I got a lock," Douglas muttered as he struggled with the controls, targeting the Aerodactyl on his HUD.

The Aerodactyls quickly banked down another street as they realized they were being pursued; Phoenix Squadron turned after them sharply, trying to keep the two flying dinosaur Pokemon within their sights. They were facing a long trench run, a downtown street that went straight ahead, leaving very little room for any fancy maneuvers. A perfect condition for firing missiles with a low chance of missing. Now was as good a time as any to launch the Stingers.

"Fire," Elton commanded.

Two plumes of smoke burst from Phoenix Squadron as Douglas launched his Stinger missile along with the copilot with Phoenix 3 at the Aerodactyl. Theoretically, even if the Aerodactyl tried to turn, the guided projectile, which was now a orb of fire trailing smoke as it made its way towards the two prehistoric Pokemon, would follow Aerodactyl, crash against the Pokemon, and detonate.

Which was why Thomas and Douglas watched with surprise as the Aerodactyls simply twirled once in its flight, dropping their altitude in the process, and the two Stingers simply soared over them without deviating in path...before crashing themselves into the skyscrapers on either side in a fiery explosion, sending bits of steel and glass flying as the burst blew a hole into the city canyon.

"What happened?" Elton demanded; it was all too obvious that he knew something was wrong.

"That was a negative impact, Captain," Douglas explained pathetically as Thomas quickly tilted his Apache upwards a bit, trying to steer clear of the explosion, the tongues of flame and the tiny flying bits of debris. Already, the cloud of flame had grown to a dangerous size that began to envelop both sides of the street.

"_Negative impact_?" Elton repeated, sounding incredulous as he quickly turned right down another street, trying to lose the Aerodactyls behind them while attempting to make some sense out of why the missiles' tracking system went defunct.

"What the hell is going on?" General Jordan demanded over the radio.

"We can't track the Aerodactyl's, sir," Douglas explained quickly as he looked around at the Aerodactyls that were gaining on them, winged Pokemon that cornered turns faster than their modern helicopters, "They're not giving off any form of body heat or electrical impulses. Our guidance systems can't do jack squat."

Elton wasted no time in trying an alternate method. "Engage safeties on all rockets and missiles," Elton ordered, "Only 30mm from here on out." Which essentially meant that they were going to have to try and hit the Aerodactyls manually with their chain guns. Somehow, Thomas wasn't all too happy with that prospect.

Whatever his doubts were, however, they were interrupted by a scream over the radio from Phoenix 3. Thomas looked right and immediately saw why; two Aerodactyls were right beside Phoenix 3's Apache and ramming his helicopter from the left side, trying to crash the attack helicopter into the buildings on the right side. "They ramming me!" Phoenix 3 screamed as alarms rang incessantly from his chopper over the radio, "I can't hold her much longer!"

"Hang on, Phoenix 3," Phoenix 4 replied as he dropped further back on his trail formation. The 30mm chain gun under the Apache's nose strobed several times from Phoenix 4's helicopter as tracers flew through the street towards the Aerodactyls; Phoenix 4 was careful not to fire too close as to prevent friendly fire, but the red and orange lines of fire flying through the air, dangerously close at the Aerodactyls, forced the winged Pokemon to squawk in panic and fury, and descend their altitude, leaving Phoenix 3 alone.

"Oh, god," Phoenix 3 breathed, relieved that his helicopter was no longer being rammed, "That...that was close. Thank you, Phoenix 4, I think I got..."

Phoenix 3 never got to finish that sentence. Before Thomas could warn Phoenix 3, the Aerodactyl flying at supersonic speeds directly toward Phoenix 3's Apache had dropped its payload, a rock about four feet in diameter._ Rock throw_, Thomas thought blankly as he watched the rock soar through the air at extreme velocity towards Phoenix 3. The glass of the Apache's cockpit was bulletproof and tough, but against a large rock flying at a speed faster than sound, the glass didn't stand too much of a chance. Upon contact, the glass simply _shattered_ before the rock went through, into the cockpit, and crushed Phoenix 3's head.

Thomas watched in horror as Phoenix 3's Apache listed, tilted without a pilot, and drift slowly towards the right wall of the street. There was the initial relief that a plume of smoke appeared from the cockpit as the gunner quickly hit his ejection seat and bailed out...milliseconds before the rotor blades drove themselves into the skyscrapers on the right side, the chopper itself slammed into the wall, and, following after, the Apache exploded in a great ball of flame, red fires and black smoke bursting out from the crisped shell of the Apache. Thomas gritted his teeth as he forced himself to pull up and avoid being engulfed in the explosion as well, barely dodging the growing sphere of fire; Phoenix 4 was directly on his tail. Phoenix Leader was nowhere in sight, presumably still weaving through the streets and wondering why Phoenix 2 and Phoenix 4 weren't keeping up.

Rejoining the formation, however, as well as the fate of Phoenix 3's gunner, was hardly Thomas' main concern at the moment. He and Phoenix 4 had pulled up far too much and soared above the skyscrapers that had shielded their sides. They realized that mistake too late as they found themselves surrounded by Aerodactyls at all sides, soaring about them like birds of prey. Thomas felt a moment of fear as the he saw his Apache and Phoenix 4 surrounded by these abominations, and tried to force their way out of the encirclement; he had no intention of being rammed to death.

Thomas soon realized that he had more than the concern of having his helicopter rammed. His sensors blared, Thomas barely registering the alarm as an energy spike, before a thick beam of light suddenly jetted right past his cockpit, barely missing him. The high concentration of energy had spiked his alarm, and it was registering it as a hostile projectile for obvious reasons. _Hyper Beam_, Thomas thought incredulously as his eyes went wide despite the light, _Aerodactyls have Hyper Beam!_ Thomas vaguely recalled watching Pokemon demolish tanks with a well-placed ray of energy...and realized, if possible, his situation had just become a lot worse.

"Dive, dive, dive!" Douglas screamed at Thomas; he, too, realized what was going on, and wanted to be back in the relative safety of the city again. Thomas had a sneaking sympathy as he forced his control stick forward and began to dive quickly, jetting his Apache back towards the city streets. He looked up frantically to search for Phoenix 4 just in time; a Hyper Beam managed to catch Phoenix 4's fuselage, the bright ray of light penetrating the Apache's rear as it instantly burned a neat hole into the Apache's battleplate and came out from the other side...and it, too, disintegrated as it exploded violently, the shockwave shaking even Thomas' Apache eighty feet below.

"Phoenix Leader!" Thomas shouted into the radio, him clearly in the panic with the loss of two wingmen within the scope of ten seconds against, of all things, Pokemon, "Phoenix Leader, do you copy? This is Phoenix 2, repeat, Phoenix..."

Thomas' throat suddenly clicked and refused to make a sound. His eyes went wide under his pilot helmet as he looked up in his Apache, watching as an Aerodactyl dive towards him at supersonic speed, its saw-like wings spread out completely with its killer instinct running wild...

And the wing solidified, for just that moment, into steel before cutting the cockpit of the Apache in half.

As the cockpit was sliced in half, Thomas was hanging onto the realization that he was in a diving helicopter about eight hundred feet above ground, with no way to control a helicopter on a crash course to hell. The cockpit in front of him was completely gone as the nose had detached itself from the rest of the Apache, and there was absolutely nothing in front of Thomas other than open air. It was time to jump ship. Literally.

Without hesitation, Thomas pulled the ejection handle of the Apache, and the rotor and cockpit window simply blasted itself off the Apache, sending it tumbling away and paying a clear path for the ejection seat; a heartbeat later, the ejection seat blasted off from the plummeting wreckage of the Apache, jettisoning Thomas safely away from the death trap, before the parachute automatically deployed at low altitudes, and Thomas began his slow descend down to the streets below.

Watching the wreckage of his Apache crash to the ground and detonate like the Apache's of his two other wingmen, watching the cloud of fire mushroom below him, Thomas contemplated, for a moment, just how lucky he had been to have been able to eject from his Apache, as opposed to Douglas, who had not been able to do so as he plummeted to his death along with the nose of the Apache that was sliced off by the Aerodactyl.

But, then, as Thomas watched the Aerodactyl suddenly circle around with the rest of the pack, jaws snapping in hungry greed, flying towards the slow, vulnerable, helpless Thomas strapped in a parachute, maybe it occurred to him that he was not lucky at all.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

I wasn't sure I was completely aware of what had happened before I woke up. But when I did wake up, however, I figured that, whatever I saw, it wasn't going to surprise me. My last memory was that something had exploded. I wasn't sure how long I had been down, so I figured that I might be in the hospital or something. My first impression was that the cafe had exploded somehow, maybe a gas leak, and I had survived.

A groan managed to escape my lips as I picked myself up. There was little pain, only a soreness in my muscle and a dull pain in my head. Managing to stand up, however, told me that my body was fine, although the mind was groggy; I had to shake my head a few times to clear it and prevent myself from crashing into something. Looking down, I was relieved to see myself in one piece; aside from some dust that had accumulated on my clothes, I did not seem to have sustained any wounds, as there was no blood or marks that would indicate I had been scratched.

Looking up at the city around me, however, dispelled my relief rather quickly.

I couldn't say that I had expected the city of Meiserland around me to look like what it looked like then, but I wasn't too surprised either. It was what I guessed the cafe would've looked like had it exploded. Except on a greater scale. Already, the city had retained a gray, derelict look to it. The street was completely empty, devoid of human life, and the quiet was uncomfortable. It was as if I had woken up in a world after God had His way with the waters that flooded the world. Cars abandoned in the streets. Windows on the ground floor broken. Papers, junk, trash flew and bounced around like tumbleweeds. Before I had passed out, I was sitting on one of the busiest streets in Meiserland. Now, though? I was standing in a metal-and-glass canyon of downtown Meiserland, giant walls of buildings and skyscrapers on both ends, with absolutely no one around me, and every indicator that human life had somehow managed to disappear from the planet.

Looking up, I saw that there were large, gaping holes in some of the skyscrapers that proudly formed downtown Meiserland. My first impression was that there had been some sort of missile attack, or bomb. I wasn't too far off the mark, actually; I didn't know it then, but the carnage had been caused by Voltorbs and Electrodes, smuggled in by Torian covert agents, with instructions to detonate at noon. Some of the other holes were caused by Venusaurs that had lined up at the border and fired devastating Solarbeams at the city. The effect, while not necessarily accurate, was properly horrific; one of the skyscrapers had been gutted, and the top half of the building simply tipped over and fell over onto the streets, crashing into a great pile of debris that formed a great, messy wall on one side of the street and forced me to look down the only other unobstructed path out. I felt like some sort of end-of-the-world scenario had found itself in Meiserland, yet, as everyone was whisked off without warning to the Final Judgment, I was somehow left behind.

I turned around, found out that I had actually woken up only several feet outside the front door of the Cait Sith Cafe. The windows were smashed and damaged, but, looking inside, the damage was minimal. There were no destroyed chairs, the walls were still intact, everything was there. Except for the broken glass, smashed coffee cups, and the presence of several overturned chairs and tables, one would've imagined that the shop had closed for the night. It was likely; the sky was not completely dark, but it already had a gray overtone to it, meaning it was either near evening, or was about to rain. Unfortunately, any delusions that I had simply been caught at a late hour was dispelled by the presence of the wreckage of a combat helicopter burning not fifty yards away from where I was standing.

My first thought was probably the same thought that had occurred to the three million people of Meiserland on that day, albeit several hours late. Toria had invaded Meiserland. Despite it being the only logical explanation, I still found it difficult to believe. Owa and Toria had been on excellent financial terms, if not political terms, since the Treaty of Meiserland seventy years ago. There had been absolutely no warning, no signs of military buildup, no political fallout. Nothing. Yet the sounds of very distant gunfire in the distance, signs of wreckage and abandonment around me, indicated that this was all too real.

Somehow, I was left alone in the middle of this. I wondered where Karen was, where everyone was, and why I was simply left alone here. I wondered if Karen, and my parents, made it out of the danger area safely.

Plucking off a Pokeball from my belt holder, I quickly summoned my Gardevoir; the ball opened, and the molecules that had been condensing itself in a rotating pattern in the Pokeball to hold its mass fired out in a red ray, which assimilated Gardevoir from her Pokeball. Pokeball technology had improved over the decades, and they had perfected a successful mass-energy conversion process utilizing Maxwell's equations. Not that I actually understood his equations, mind you; I was more concerned about converting Gardevoir's energy out of her Pokeball and into mass.

The reason I chose Gardevoir was simple: Habit. Gardevoir and Skarmory were the only two Pokemon I could released out on the street, but I chose Gardevoir because, out of the two, Gardevoir was more loyal, more obedient towards my commands. Skarmory had a Class B Temper, which meant Skarmory was workable, but also had some flares in its personality that could make it quirky. At the moment, though, I wanted some form of security and companionship, so when the molecules finished their one-second-long assimilation, I was looking at a lithe, skinny white-and-green figure in a ballroom dress a bit shorter than myself. Gardevoir had a touch of elegance to herself that betrayed her obvious function as a psychic Pokemon. Despite its frail frame, Gardevoirs were widely known to be notoriously loyal to their trainers, even to the point where they would sacrifice themselves. I needed that kind of assurance then, because I was feeling rather insecure in what was looking like a modern Netherworld.

My summoning Gardevoir could not have been more timely; before I could even say something to it, give it orders, something had caught our eyes. Shadows, moving fast. Moving _very_ fast.

Gardevoir pulsed her psychic powers once...essentially utilizing her powers like a radar. By no means could Gardevoir actually talk with me; her vocal cords didn't permit her to speak to humans. Her thought processes were not quite human-like either, but a single pulse of her psychic powers in my head gave me an understanding of the situation that was not quite like her speaking to me, but placing enlightenment in my head. And I'm not sure I liked the enlightenment, which was only confirmed as three shadows jumped out at us from three different directions.

Three Houndooms. Dark type Pokemon, resembling black-and-red wolves with white horns and skeleton-like exoskeleton. Known to be vicious fighters, and trained by various military forces around the world as attack dogs. With flamethrowers.

I was totally not liking this.

It barely occurred to me, in my panic, that Gardevoir's psychic moves were ineffective against dark type Pokemon such as Houndoom. Even worse, dueling rules were stuck in my head, and, had I been a bit more used to actual life-or-death combat, I would've also unleashed Feraligatr, not to mention all my other Pokemon. Dueling rules dictated that only one Pokemon could be released in a normal duel, and those rules had been drilled into my head after endless matches in the dueling arena. I didn't quite realize it yet, but it was proving to be one hell of a problem.

I had not yet regained my wits fast enough to issue an order, merely shielded my head with both my arms at the assault to come, watching the Houndooms jump into the air and prepare for a strike from high-to-low, when the Houndooms suddenly disappeared from my view. Flabbergast, I watched as clusters of junk, chairs, tables, trash, tire caps, suddenly flew together into one cluster six feet in diameter right above me, a shield that warded off the attacks of the Houndoom. I shot a look at Gardevoir right next to me, and saw her pulse with telekinetic power, and realized that she just saved my life, and not for the first time.

Any sign of gratitude would have to wait, however. The Houndooms had bounced off the shield that Gardevoir had formed, but they were hardly done yet. A gout of flame spewed its way towards the two of us from one of the Houndooms mouth, forcing me to take one step back, and forcing Gardevoir to redirect her shield, which began to glow red hot. This only permitted one Houndoom to target me, and another Houndoom to flank Gardevoir. And I did not feel very optimistic; I knew Gardevoir was a powerful psychic, but even she couldn't take on two different attackers at once. Worse off, I had become a target now.

"Gardevoir!" I shouted as I began to run from the Houndoom chasing me, which was an effort because it ran two times faster than I, "Double Team!" I realized that our respective prospect of survival was going to be much higher if Gardevoir survived. If Gardevoir tried to protect the two of us, it was going to be a big problem. And if Gardevoir was injured or died, our chances of surviving were going to be much lower. I was going to fend that one Houndoom on my own and hope Gardevoir can handle two Houndooms at once.

Gardevoir heeded my command as she stood still for a moment, then, as the two Houndooms jumped on her, they suddenly _went_ through her, and I knew that I had seen the move enough to know that they had attacked her afterimage; already, Gardevoir was moving in short bursts of speed difficult for eyes to keep track of, and Gardevoir was immediately behind the two Houndooms, a perfect attack position.

I started to issue a second command, Psychic, in the attempt of having Gardevoir launch a few more projectiles towards the two Houndooms. This was interrupted as a flash of black appeared in the peripheral of my vision, and I ducked just in time to see three slits appear at the shoulder of my vest as a claw went through it, courtesy Houndoom. I didn't feel pain, meaning the claws barely made contact with my shoulder...but I barely dodged the flames that the Houndoom breathed at me as it turned its head mid-jump; it was directed towards my side, but deadly all the same. I rolled to the ground to safety just as the Houndoom landed on its feet and came around for a second attempt.

Gardevoir had paused for just a second to await my second command, but my failure to give it lost her several precious seconds that could've given her the initiative, and the Houndooms had already regained their momentum as they targeted Gardevoir again. This time, they flanked both of her sides, spewing flame at her for a wider scope of attack. The Houndooms were learning, and cornering Gardevoir. That wasn't good.

A flash from Gardevoir, however, nearly blinded me before the flames made contact, and Gardevoir reappeared a moment later behind one of the Houndooms. I silently thanked my late friend in his eternal rest for training Gardevoir in her Teleport well, which had undoubtedly gotten her out from a bad situation. A pulse from her body, coupled with a wave of her hand, sent a table nearby crashing into the Houndoom that had not turned towards her fast enough, slamming the hellish canine against a nearby wall. The Houndoom crashed into the wall a bit too hard, and knocked it unconscious as it lay prone on the ground.

Any sort of celebration I was going to partake in, however, was cut short by the Houndoom that had been upon me; once again, I had been too focused on Gardevoir to notice that I was in a state of immediate peril. I didn't have to look at Gardevoir to know she was too occupied to come for me this time. And, as the Houndoom raced at me, jaws snapping with trails of fire coming out of it, I could've sworn I heard the Houndoom whisper "two seconds".

What would've been seventy-seven pounds of fire-breathing attack dog on my throat ended up disappearing as a crimson flash suddenly appeared and simply smacked the dark mass away with an audible slicing sound; my eyes vaguely caught two slices made in the X-pattern before I caught the silhouette of a Scizor standing before a Houndoom with a bloody X at its side. And that was when I remembered bug moves were effective on dark Pokemon. X-Scissor was one of the most powerful bug moves around. Its metallic shell a gleaming red, it almost looked like some sort of surreal knight's armor. Its two hands were rounded, scissor-like claws, and the small wings fluttered rapidly to permit the Scizor to hover a few inches above the ground and dispel heat from its internal organs. The irony that Scizor was extremely weak to fire was evident with its capability to utilize his bug moves to heavily damage a dark Pokemon such as Houndoom.

My initial shock of seeing another Pokemon appear was preceded by my concern for Gardevoir. While I did not necessarily fool myself into the fantasy that the Scizor was definitely on my side, I had a bit of hope, and I knew I had to operate off that assumption if I was to have the luxury to paying attention to Gardevoir. Her situation remained the same; while she was teleporting around the area quickly, the places she could teleport herself to was severely restricted by the flames that Houndoom was breathing widely everywhere. She had little space to maneuver, less time to concentrate on her moves.

"Gardevoir's too intent on staying away from the attacks. Get her closer to the Houndoom."

I turned around to see a figure standing behind me, the Scizor right next to him, and wondered how he had managed to creep up on me. With long white hair and red eyes behind a pair of reading glasses, it was easy to tell he was neither an Owan or Torian native. He seemed to overdress himself in clothing a bit large for him, as if he was wearing robes or a cloak, his clothing looking a bit like a trenchcoat. In one hand, he held a laptop computer with a built-in camera, which his eyes never left.

It rather annoyed me to see that he did not even look at me, keeping his eyes on the screen, as the stranger offered me advice. Seeing that I did not take his advice, he added, still without looking at me, "Houdoom's area of attack decreases as one moves closer to it. Gardevoir can find an opening if she gets close enough."

Okay, well, that made sense. Half-assed attempt to convince me aside, I turned my attention to Gardevoir, watching as she wore herself out trying to teleport away from Houndoom's repeated gouts of flame that had already set both sides of the street near him on fire. "Gardevoir!" I shouted, "Get close to Houndoom; it'll buy you some time!"

Gardevoir's reaction was instantaneous and without hesitation. Gardevoir disappeared once again and reappeared right on top of Houndoom and the cloud of fire that had been burning up the air everywhere. The Houndoom noticed and began to turn, but its attack area was significantly decreased, and, at this range, it was much easier for Gardevoir to launch an attack. With a spin of her hand, a tornado of wreckage around her, debris, chairs, tables, anything that was around, accumulated around her, and, as the myriad of objects formed a whirlwind around the two Pokemon, they disappeared from my view. Bursts of flame managed to escape from the miniature tornado, the only sign from the eye of that storm, and I ended up holding my breath in worry, not knowing what was going on in there. A moment later, I let that breath out as understanding was placed in my mind, Gardevoir's assurance to me that she was alright.

Seven seconds later, the flames stopped, and the whirlwind of random objects finally collapsed to the ground in a loud crash, revealing Gardevoir floating just a foot above the prone form of Houndoom, looking like it had been struck too many times by various objects. For the most part and to my relief, Gardevoir was uninjured. At the moment, however, I was too shaken to actually offer anything more to Gardevoir than a weak smile before my legs failed me and I fell onto the ground. I wasn't unconscious, but I felt dizzy; the realization that I had nearly been killed by a Pokemon throbbed in my mind. Gardevoir was immediately by my side as she floated over to check up on me.

"Houndooms," the stranger said simply as he clicked on his computer twice, then proceeded to close it and shove it into a computer bag slung around his shoulder, "Torians use them as attack dogs and allow them to patrol areas without personnel to watch over them. They generally get the job done very well..." he paused, looked down at me as he removed his reading glasses, asked, "...Are you alright?"

I wasn't sure I liked this guy, who wasn't much older than me; there was just something a bit too calm and poised about him. But I guessed I owed him my life, what with the timely appearance of his Scizor. "Fine," I muttered.

"You've got a cut on your shoulder," the stranger pointed out.

"I'm fine," I interrupted with a bit of a scowl, looking at my shoulder, confirming that there was no wound, "Just scraped my clothes..." I looked up at this rather calm guy as he muttered a "thanks" to his Scizor before recalling him to his Pokeball, "...Who the hell are you?"

As Scizor disappeared in a flash of light and the newcomer's Pokeball sealed, the newcomer unclipped another Pokeball off his belt, and I managed to get a look at his belt and saw that he only had four Pokeballs. "The name's Ysionris Gavotte," he introduced himself as the second Pokeball opened, revealing a feminine dark-blue wolf with a white fur, a ruff of fur at the neck, and a sickle-like tail and flap at the side of its head, "I work with ARPO."

APRO. The Aegis Pokemon Research Organization. Although not officially endorsed by any formal political organization, the APRO, initially funded by some of the most brilliant authorities in the field of Pokemon, achieved recognition worldwide as it became known as _the_ authority on all things Pokemon. Despite its neutral stance and few alliances, governments and private interests all over the world fund APRO's research with hopes of getting some shares.

I actually made a lot of friends in APRO when I participated in internships with them during high school. They were the reason why I had a Arcanine, Gengar, and Nidoking, and why they are so powerful today. I suppose that it was some comfort to hear that the guy before me, one Ysionris Gavotte, was working with APRO. I suppose it also explained his rather analytical nature.

With a sigh, I pulled out my cellphone, installed with a PokeNavi, hoping that I could contact anyone I know and tell them I'm safe, or at least call up my APRO friends and confirm that they knew Ysionris. "You don't need to try," Ysionris said as he saw me produce a cell phone, "Magnetons in the area are distorting telecommunications and radio waves..." Ysionris grinned, something that irked me a bit, "...They sure have a cost-friendly way of implementing ECM."

The Absol next to Ysionris made a low whining sound, indicating a certain sense of displeasure, as she crouched a bit and seemed alert and poised to move immediately. Ysionris listened to Absol for a moment, nodded, then turned back to me. "Absol isn't too happy about staying out here in the open," Ysionris said, "She senses danger on that horizon. We'd be safer indoors..." Ysionris gestured at his laptop, "...I've got some data to analyze, anyways."

I managed to get back onto my feet, with Gardevoir's help, who levitated me a bit with her psychic powers. "Thanks," I whispered to Gardevoir, who gave a purr in response, as I decided to keep her out of her Pokeball just in case, and turned to Ysionris, "Wait, what danger?" I didn't like the idea of a scientist-type telling me that Meiserland, my hometown, was dangerous, despite the fact that I was convinced Toria had invaded.

Ysionris raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Houndooms are reasonably intelligent, as are most Pokemon, who retain sentient thought," Ysionris explained as if he was lecturing a class, "With very few exceptions, military forces utilizing Houndooms train them well, as they do all Pokemon. I'm quite sure Toria trains their Houndooms to distinguish between soldier and civilian...and to try not to target civilians. That they attacked you without warning indicates that the situation has changed."

I blinked. I had never enjoyed listening to long, unnecessary lectures, which was probably why I didn't score well on the OCEE. "The point?" I muttered, remembering my previous experience with APRO members who simply had to make things sound more complicated than they seem.

"The point is," Ysionris had already begun walking into the Cait Sith Cafe without really waiting for me, depending on me to follow, "the Torian military must have specifically instructed their Pokemon to target and kill Owan civilians and soldiers on sight. We're caught in the middle of it."


	4. Chapter Three

Author's Note: Alright, some history on this world of mine. Because I'm not going to bother to elaborate it in this story; it's not what Fires of Meiserland is going to be about, so I'll make an author's note to elaborate on my little world.

In the late 18th century, two countries had become the most developed nations on the Grasian continent, the United States of Esea (a revised constitution in 1852 following the St. Aaron's Incident, however, reformed the country into the Esean Federation) and the Kingdom of Toria. The two entered a state of cold war in the early 19th century due to their conflicting political status quo, military buildup, and economic differences. By the early 20th century, however, it was obvious that Toria's drained economy could no longer keep up with the massive weapons race between the two countries. Following the economic difficulties that ensued, the Torian royal family passed the Territorial Review Act, which permitted rebellious territories on the edges of Toria to secede and gain its independence, which relaxed tensions with Esea and removed some of the burden on Toria's troubled economy. Toria, knowing full well that it had lost the cold war against Esea, decided to use the resources left to them to fend for themselves and streamline their relations with the world around them.

However, domestic policies closer further inland in Toria did not change. This did nothing to improve the unrest within their borders, and, in early 1945, the large eastern provinces of Arnheim, Odyne, and Weierlark banded together to form the Democratic States of Owa, and, expecting immediate Torian retaliation, established their wartime capital in Meiserland, a large port city close to the border on the Meiserland Bay. Meiserland, declared as the city on the frontlines that must be held no matter what, sat on a rich mineral deposit that represented a significant portion of Toria's market, something that Toria was not willing to let go of so easily. Toria initiated their counterattack, but Esea, their neighboring superpower, was still distrusting of Toria and supported the Owan act of independence. By the end of 1945, Toria had realized it could not win a war against both Esea and Owa, and was forced to sign the Treaty of Meiserland: Toria did not formally recognize Owan independence, but acknowledged the border as the line their military could not cross to respect the ceasefire. It also permitted limited business deals between themselves, and, unexpectedly, both nations began to benefit from the trade relations following. The Democratic States of Owa became the Federal Republic of Owa, and the situation stabilized. Satisfied that the two nations were at peace, the world turned to other dilemmas. Seventy years later on July 8th, 2015, Toria invaded Meiserland.

The Owa-Torian situation is based off both the two Koreas and the Soviet Union. Owa itself was inspired by the Federal Republic of Germany, Toria by the German Empire, the Weimar Republic, the Third Reich, and the Soviet Union. The Esean Federation is based of the United States of America.

**Chapter Three**

There was still food in the cabinets of the Cait Sith Cafe where Ysionris and I took shelter in, which meant we had something of a simple dinner that night as the clouds began to glow an angry red. I walked over to the window, looking at the clouds as they glowed a fiery amber and flickered with light above. It felt weird, seeing a surreal light in the sky when everything was so dark at ground level. I wondered what was happening to my city. And how bad the fighting was. I felt sick just staying here in the middle of nowhere, with absolutely no one but the guy from APRO as company.

"Seems like a fire's broken out in the east," Ysionris commented casually as he sat in a seat well in the back of the cafe, his Absol at his feet and curled up, looking at the screen of his laptop computer situated right on the table in front of him, which was, evidently, replaying some of the video feeds that he had recorded when I was up against the three Houndooms, "Probably due to heavy fighting. The light of the fires are being reflected off the clouds; attention will probably be drawn towards the area. That'll delay Owan reinforcements, but it's good for us..." Ysionris popped another peanut from a jar into his mouth, then said, "...Might be a good idea to step away from the window, kid. I don't want to have to attract bad company."

"The name's Michael," I frowned, not liking being called "kid", which was what all my relatives used to call me when I was younger, "It's dark, no one's out there, the lights aren't on. I'll be fine."

"Well," Ysionris said with a shrug, "it happens to be that the Torian military uses Noctowls for night flight surveillance. I can guarantee they see very well in the dark, and can read a book from three blocks away. Noctowls are trained to coordinate reconnaissance efforts with both the Torian main force as well as Aerodactyls patrolling the air, and I'm much more worried about the latter. So mind if you step back a bit?"

I was irritated at being constantly corrected by Ysionris, who seemed knowledgeable about the situation around us, but much too calm. He was either simply apathetic, or he was a smug someone in a treacherous position to know something. Whether he was indifferent or a dangerous figure, I didn't like it much. Still, he made sense, which was probably why I ended up feeling more frustrated than I should be. Nevertheless, I stepped away from the window closer to where Ysionris was, sitting down in a chair about five feet away, and wondering, for about the twelfth time, what kind of name "Ysionris" was, and what his parents got high on when they gave him that name. I still wasn't sure how to pronounce it.

I had put Gardevoir inside her Pokeball once more, so it was just Ysionris, his Absol, and myself. I had recalled Gardevoir more out of habit than anything; I probably should have left her by my side to protect me. Still, I didn't feel very endangered right then.

"You might want to eat some," Ysionris said casually to me and pointed to the jars of food behind the cafe counter, "I think we're going to have to travel as far east as possible to hook up with the rest of Owa. We should be safe here, but if Absol gives us the warning call, we're going to high-tail it quick."

I gave a glance to the Absol curled up at Ysionris' feet, watched the white-furred Pokemon stare out the window listlessly as if looking on some invisible horizon for an unseen threat. I had remembered from my classes that Absol had precognitive abilities, and was especially apt in sensing impending disaster. That this guy had an Absol eased my worries a bit, our early-warning system. Every once and a while, Ysionris would scratch Absol's neck, and she would purr and lick at Ysionris' hand. Despite the familiarity between him and his Pokemon, however, I was uncertain of his standing as a trainer. He didn't look the the trainer type, not with the way he held himself and poured all over his data.

"So who are you really?" I asked Ysionris again.

Ysionris raised an eyebrow. "Thought I told you," he shrugged, "I'm with APRO. Ysionris Gavotte."

"What kind of name is 'Ysionris'?" I interrupted, looking at him with a frown. Admittedly, I wanted to get some dirt on him; my irritation was running a bit high, and some of it was towards him, he would refused to reveal too much to me, stuck in his world of data and figures.

Ysionris deflated me a bit as he smiled, seemingly good-natured about it; it was obvious he received that question a lot. I had a feeling that he took very little personally, and I wasn't sure how I was supposed to react to that. "An uncommon name," he admitted as his reading glasses reflected the display of his laptop screen in front of him, "But it gets me around. Still, if you feel my name is too long and obscure, feel free to call me 'Ysi'."

"And what do you do with APRO?" I asked. It was getting boring doing nothing, not to mention depressing, knowing that a war was waging miles away and there was nothing I could do. Chatting with him was something I guess I could do to pass the time and the depression.

"I'm a Pokemon researcher and battle theorist," Ysionris replied simply, "My job is to research the psychology and behavioral traits of Pokemon in conjunction with their respective abilities and powers. Furthermore, I coach trainers in advanced battle theory..." two clicks on Ysionris' laptops, and Ysionris leaned back in his seat, taking off his reading glasses before closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers, "...Can't say I'm a trainer or duelist, though, despite what I teach. Formally, I'm Doctor Ysionris Gavotte. I've still got some ways to go to reach Professor."

I stared at Ysionris, or Ysi, as I decided on calling him, for a moment. I was convinced that he was not yet out of college, for he could not have been more than a few years older than I, yet he was already a Doctor in APRO? His potent intellect probably became clear then, realizing that he probably ascended the ranks with a level head. "You've got to be the youngest Pokemon Doctor I've seen," I whistled, crossing my arms and feeling a twinge of jealousy.

Ysi laughed; it was not derisive, only an amused laugh at the circumstances, but I couldn't say I liked it. "Laws in different countries vary," Ysi admitted, "While I could not get my license upgraded to Class B by the IPA before the age of eighteen, I took several other tests outside of Owa the certified my path towards becoming a Pokemon researcher through official workshops and events held by APRO, the IPA, and various nations across the world. And, of course, I didn't skip high school, which offered me an honors program in the field. Of course, I had some family connections..." Ysi paused, and, for the first time, actually seemed a bit uncomfortable as he twitched his mouth to the side, "...but I digress. So, by the time I graduated out of high school, APRO pretty much snagged me off and recognized my credentials. By the time I received by Class B Pokemon IPPL, I already had enough credits accumulated from my high school work to be transferred to college for a bachelor degree."

My eyebrow twitched with a bit of jealousy; so he got in because laws were different from wherever he came from, and some of them were bent. I didn't doubt his capabilities, not yet, but I was a bit envious about how he climbed the ladder and the alacrity in which he had done it. I was about to ask from what country he came from, but Ysi had spoken first.

"I think I've actually came across your name before," Ysi mentioned, "Recently. Michael Kitaro. APRO recently offered you funding should you choose to upgrade your license and begin your journey, yes? I saw your name on the list of possible candidates at the Wagner Conference two months ago. I think I've heard a thing or two about you."

"Really?" I laughed, feeling a bit smug that someone from APRO that did not know me actually heard of my name before, "And what are those one or two things about?"

Ysi shrugged. "That you have a lot of room for improvement," Ysi said simply as he turned his laptop around and showed me what was on his screen, a collection of video recordings of my Gardevoir fighting with two Houndoom, as well as a lot of charts and figures that looked way too complicated for me to try and figure out, "For a trainer using a Pokemon not only outnumbered but also of a disadvantageous type, you know what you're doing. I suspect that your Gardevoir has just recently evolved, and is a bit further up the evolution chain than the Houndooms, but you performed admirably in a bind. On the other hand, your tactics for Gardevoir could've been much more effective if you had not permitted the Houndooms to use their surround-and-attack strategies..." Ysi clicked on his laptop again, and a three-dimensional map of the street from earlier, complete with icons of Gardevoir, myself, and the three Houndooms, appeared, "...Gardevoir required the presence of actual physical objects for her attacks to possible work on dark type Pokemon. Had you emphasized on _space_ and _mobility_, you could've lured the Houndooms further down the street and only have one direction to face instead of having Gardevoir be constantly surrounded by Houndooms."

I could tell Ysi wasn't finished as he put his reading glasses back on. "Houndooms generally have an average approach velocity of three feet per second when it comes to the cautious attempt to close in an corner an opponent," Ysi exhaled, looking at me as the videos of Gardevoir being attacked by Houndooms played on the screen, "From your initial position, if you had continued to move back away from the Houndooms and permitted them to approach while using Gardevoir to launch projectiles that them, you would've had approximately half a minute before you were cornered at the debris blockading the street...meaning ten seconds for each Houndoom. And I've not factored in the advantages of fighting in a cornered position."

I felt an instant irritation latch onto me, and I wondered how long Ysi had stayed hidden, recording all these videos of Gardevoir and I struggling against killer Houndooms, before finally deciding to show up and do something. That, and his insistence on pointing out things I could've done, irked me. It was, of course, coupled with my general displeasure of being lectured. "And what are you?" I retorted sarcastically with a bit of acid in my tone, "Some sort of master duelist?"

Ysi gave a soft laugh, and, for a moment, I actually felt some sort of detachment from him, futility and resentment. "How could that be?" he said softly, "I've lost that kind of faith long ago..."

And watching him feel uncomfortable, which I had intend to make him feel, made me feel uncomfortable as well, which I, of course, hadn't intended to feel. "Faith?" I echoed, but Ysi had already moved onto something else.

"We're going to stay here just long enough for Lynn to return," Ysi said as he stretched, looking out the window as if expecting whoever "Lynn" was to return just right at that moment, "She should be around soon."

"Lynn?" I asked, wondering if Ysi thought everything he knew was supposed to be common knowledge.

"My friend and associate," Ysi replied as he finished his stretch, tilted his head left and right, "She's looking for a way out of the city to hook up with the rest of the evacuees."

Which, of course, reminded me that I had been unconscious for a few good hours and probably missed the evacuation of the city. That, and I had absolutely no idea what had happened during the time I had been knocked out. "Yeah, about that," I grimaced, twisting my mouth to the side in clear annoyance, "I had been, uh, unconscious. When the attack first started. At noon. I think. Until you found me dancing with three Houndoom, I can't say I knew what was going on."

Ysi nodded; I was glad that he simply took in that information instead of making a dry crack or laughing about it. There was an apparent lack of concern about what I didn't know, only what I needed to know. "The Torian attack started at noon today," Ysi said, glanced at his computer monitor, added, "Time was about eight in the evening when I first found you. Right now is just before nine. Evacuation of the city took place at one; apparently, the Owans had no idea what had hit them and took a while to establish any real chain of command. As far as I know right now, the Owans are moving east into the suburbs, but that information is real old, about seven hours old; Magnetons in the area have been interfering with communications not on a Torian frequency, so I can't get in touch with anyone. For the most part, though, I've been playing a duck-and-move game around downtown. We're thinking that reinforcements won't be around come morning. It's the best time for an attack; armies generally start to relax after they've braved the night, on the alert for a night attack. Plus most Pokemon abilities work well at daylight. I've suggested just staying around until reinforcements came along, but..." Ysi grinned, an unusual usage of his rather soft and pale features, "...Lynn was insistent that we try and take the initiative and find a way out of here. So I'm holding a position around these parts until Lynn can figure out a way out."

I can't deny the fact that my first feeling was suspicion. While I acknowledged that he was probably more in-the-know than someone who had been unconscious for the last eight hours, he seemed to know far too much about the situation and what might happen next. Plus he was far too calm. True, I wasn't panicking; things were making sense, and I found myself facing reality quite calmly than I would've expected. I wasn't freaking out or wondering why this was happening to me. I was acknowledging that this _was_ happening to me, and that I needed to find a way out of this. The way Ysi was acting, however, made me feel as if he _expected_ this to happen. So you couldn't blame me when I asked, "Exactly what are you still doing here? You don't look like you spent the last few hours unconscious; you should have been out of downtown by now, along with the rest of the evacuees."

Ysi smiled, a smile I didn't actually care very much for, as he brushed his long, messy white hair away from his red eyes. "A fair question," Ysi replied, "I'll keep the long story short. Lynn and I were here in Meiserland to conduct an important experiment. It was supposed to happen today, except the Torians invaded. We had hoped that, as members of APRO, the Torians wouldn't mind us too much, and we could continue our experiment anyways, as the invasion didn't quite interfere with our experimental circumstances..." Ysi shrugged, gave a futile smile, "...Well. If our encounter with the Houndooms wasn't any indicator, reality and hope rarely hold hands."

Before I could respond, however, Absol's head suddenly perked up...and, from the way I saw Ysi jolt his head toward Absol, I could tell that this meant trouble. Ysi seemed calm, but his hand quickly scooped up his laptop as he closed it and shoved it into his computer case. "We need to go," he said simply. I wasn't really going to argue. Not carrying anything, I simply headed for the door and opened it, leading to the street outside. Ysi followed suit, followed immediately by Absol, who gave a bit of a whine towards the sky, before Ysi tapped Absol once with a Pokeball, and, with a flash of light, Absol was back inside. I picked a direction...which was down the street, the only path that didn't lead to a giant wall of debris.

"What are we running from?" I asked Ysi; I knew that Absols could detect danger, yet, not having one myself, I wasn't sure how they worked specifically.

"Not sure," Ysi admitted as he ran alongside me, "I forgot to ask."

I could not tell if he was being serious or not.

We made about one hundred and fifty feet in just less than twenty seconds, which wasn't too bad, because Ysi was carrying a laptop weighing them down, and because we heard a whizzing sound momentarily afterwards as we may one hundred and fifty feet, which was followed by a thundering explosion moments later. From the distance, I felt the shockwaves, but it was not anything that impeded my progress. Looking back, I saw a large dust cloud rise from where three artillery shells had found their mark, right in front of the Cait Sith Cafe. Had we remained in there, we would've been shred to pieces by the impact.

We were not out of the trouble just yet, however. As we ran and reached the crossroads, three Owan soldiers, in full combat gear and bearing assault rifles, came down the street on our left. They were dressed completely in black, with a bulletproof vest and a baklava under a helmet. They seemed like Owan mainline troops. Problem was, they did not shout for us to halt or surrender. They simply raised their assault rifles and prepared to fire at us. We were practically caught out in the open at an intersection.

At that moment, I didn't doubt Ysi's analysis that the Owans were shooting to kill anyone they saw.

When I saw the first flash of light, I thought that the Owans had fired their assault rifles. Or that I had been shot, and my life was flashing before my eyes, the white light taking my life away. I soon realized my assumptions to be wrong: Ysi had jumped right in front of me with a Pokeball in each hand. And both of them were open.

I wasn't sure how he managed to do it. We were being targeted by three soldiers bearing assault rifles down the street. The assault rifles were spewing about 900 rounds a minute, few of those shots actually going well. Yet, somehow, Ysi's Scizor was deflecting them all with his massive, steel claws, which were flashing back and forth in a red blur, too fast for my eye to track. The blur almost wasn't even there, moving at an alacrity I simply could not see. Some of the bullets he blocked with his thin, hardened body, but where his armor could not shield us, his claws were there, knocking away about thirty bullets every second. I knew Scizors were fast, but I could not even imagine a Scizor accomplish this kind of feat.

Then I saw a lavender feline sitting on the ground right next to Scizor, the red gem on its head glowing with a pulsating light. Not that I really understood what that meant. All I knew was that I was behind a Scizor, it was deflecting bullets, I was safe, and it was a chance to counterattack. I took it.

Bullets were deadly physical projectiles that pretty much nicked anything that got in their way. I had one steel type Pokemon, Skarmory, but I wasn't feeling very convinced that Skarmory was better-armored than Scizor. Almost all my other Pokemon wouldn't react well to bullets. So that left one of my Pokemon...that would be completely unaffected.

"Gengar!" I commanded the short, deformed human-like shadow that had came out from my Pokeball and was making its way towards the soldiers at good speed, "Confuse Ray!"

Gengar had a mischievous personality that gained it a Class C Temper by the IPA. Fortunately, I was in need of such mischievousness; Gengar's red eyes flared once with a hypnotizing light, which I was glad I _didn't_ see...and it did its trick on the nearest Torian soldier. Gengar had the ability to hypnotize humans and other Pokemon, messing up their logic, their senses, and their train of thought. Aside from the fact that one of the soldiers had turned to target Gengar with his assault rifle only to have his bullets go harmlessly through the ghost, I needed that kind of deviousness from Gengar for getting us out of that sticky spot.

Whatever the Torian soldier saw in his confused state, it certainly didn't cast his comrades in good light; the man suddenly turned and, without hesitation, pumped several bullets into their heads with his assault rifle, splattering blood through the air and on the streets before the two soldiers hit the ground, dead.

I suddenly felt nauseous and very self-conscious at the sight of corpses I was responsible for killing.

I had paused, my mind drawing a blank at that moment...and didn't give an order. Gengar sometimes gets too carried away and attacks without command anyways, but this was not one of those moments; Gengar paused, waiting for an order that did not come. Thankfully, there was a red blur right next to the confused soldier, who was spraying assault bullet rounds everywhere in his madness, and, a moment later, he, too, dropped to the ground, unconscious, courtesy a well-placed claw to the spine. Scizor grunted once, then his short wings flapped up and down rapidly, dispelling the heat in his internal organs out of his body like vents.

"Good job," Ysi said, seemingly undisturbed by it all, as he stepped up right next to me and pointed his Pokeball at Scizor, which turned into a flash of light as it returned to its Pokeball. At the moment, though, I wasn't sure if he was saying "good job" to his Scizor or to me. His Espeon, however, remained out of his Pokeball, arching his head into the air and allowing the air to ruffle its lavender fur.

"How do you do that?" I demanded; right now, I wanted something, anything, to keep my mind from replaying two heads being blasted by bullets into a bloody mess.

Ysi looked at me questioningly. "Do what?"

I snapped at him, my irritation coming to a limit. "How are you not irritated by anything?" I demanded, frustrated that he could seem so calm, so collected, so _surreal_ when people around us were dying, "Two soldiers just had their heads blown up, and you hardly seem to care, or even seem disturbed."

"I've seen enough," Ysi shrugged, apparently not minding my question very much, before he looked further down the street and smiled, "Ah, there comes our goddess of hope now."

I begrudgingly followed Ysi's gaze and found myself looking at a rather lithe and nimble girl not more than thirty feet away, moving towards us, accompanied by a Jolteon, a feline with yellow and white spiky fur and an evolutionary cousin of Espeon, and an Absol of her own. For a moment, I felt a bit stunned; here we were on a battlefield, and she was wearing something akin to Gothic Lolita or Marionette-styled dress, complete with frills, that almost made her look like a Victorian-styled girl or a maid. She had smooth, dark red hair and startlingly golden eyes. She was quite a girl, well-dressed, well-groomed; she couldn't be been much older than myself.

"Welcome back," Ysi said to the girl as she returned, "Lynn, meet Michael, someone I had picked up just about an hour ago. Michael, meet Caitlynn Celia. She's a longtime friend and colleague of mine."

"My honor to meet you," Lynn said in a smooth, soft voice with a slight bow that flustered me for a bit as I realized she, too, was not Owan. I suddenly had a slight impulse to call her "Ms. Celia" instead, but, before I could offer anything in return, I was irritatingly interrupted by Ysi, who turned down my annoyance a few notches by going for pragmatic matters.

"Did you find anything?" Ysi asked as he crossed his arms, looking around; judging from his casual voice, though, he didn't seem all that eager to leave.

"The Torians have minimal security set up in the Meiserland Bay," Lynn replied softly, "Apparently, the Owan fleet further out are having a tough time against the assault spearheaded by Torian Gyradoses four miles further out. We could use that as a distraction."

Ysi nodded, putting a hand to his chin. "The Torians probably won't cover all of the Meiserland Bay," he agreed, "They know all too well that they also need to defend the area."

"Yes..." Lynn whispered, and she suddenly seemed worried and concerned in a truly feminine way that I cannot describe using anything but the world "protectiveness", "...but there are...other concerns. Most of the bay is out in the open. And where there are indoor passages...Voltorbs and Electrodes. Several Owan soldiers in the city around the area have also been deactivated."

Ysi nodded, fought back a grimace. The two looked at each other for a moment and, with that simple glance, achieved mutual understanding. I could sense a familiarity between the two, signs that they had been together from a long time. And here I was, standing, wondering how the hell I had been excluded from the conversation.

"Well, then," Ysi shrugged, and finally turned to me, putting his reading glasses away and looked at me with those red eyes of his, "Shall we find a way out of Meiserland?"


	5. Chapter Four

Author's Note: This chapter will be a bit shorter chronologically; I'm mostly trying to build up a bit more of the world here rather than actually have things _happen_. I'll make up for it next chapter.

**Chapter Four**

The Meiserland Bay faced the Ceres Ocean to the south, and, by all accounts, was a working man's ocean. A open mouth of land facing the vast waters to the south, the Bay of Meiserland was home to hundreds, maybe thousands, of fishing trawlers, cargo ships, naval vessels. Unlike the beaches in the east facing the Pacific Ocean, here was not host to long, white beaches complete with palm trees and girls dressed scantily in swimsuits. Here was miles and miles of ports and piers, surrounded only by massive cargo containers, cranes, machinery, and barrels, a metallic jungle coupled with the air of materials decayed by seawater.

If anything, that the entire place was derelict made this place seem twice as miserable as it already was.

"So you two come from APRO?" I asked Caitlynn, or "Lynn", as she was also called, as I tried my best not to look at the slender girl, who declared she would change in the darkness of the warehouse. Every now and then, I'd hear the clink of her putting something down, probably a Pokeball, an accessory, god knows what. Apparently, it was easy to conceal things in Victorian dresses.

"That's right," Lynn replied from the darkness, "We're both Pokemon researchers. Ysi specializes in Pokemon psychology, behavioral traits, and inherent abilities, but I'm more inclined towards the biochemistry and metabolism. Surely he has told you this?"

"He has," I muttered, and thought about all the other things that Ysi had not told me. Having made it to the Meiserland Bay, we eventually ducked into one of the warehouses after we spotted too many Pokemon birds circling the sky, and decided it was too dangerous to remain outdoors. The three of us had ducked into the warehouse, but Ysi volunteered to just take a quick scout ahead and see if there was another, safer path they could go down. So that left Lynn and I in the warehouse, sitting on wooden crates, and talking about anything in general. It was dark, but the fires far away in the warring sectors of the capital still managed to cast a pale, orange glow through the windows, providing us one miserable source of light.

A low growl from the side reminded me of the presence of my Feraligatr that I had left right next to the warehouse entrance in the shadows. A blue reptilian Pokemon that was just a bit over seven feet six inches, Feraligatr represented some of the most ferocious traits in a carnivore Pokemon, including the urge to kill violently. With its red fins as a warning to other Pokemon and humans not to mess with thems, Feraligatrs were known to grab their victims in their jaws...and then shake them rapidly and violently in between their teeth so that they're savagely torn apart. It was pretty hard to imagine that I had managed to recently evolve it all the way from its basic form, the hyper and infinitely cheerful Totodile. While I can't say I agreed with the way it fed, I needed that kind of security at the moment, as there was comfort in the knowledge that anything unwelcome that made it past those warehouse doors had a chance of being violently ripped apart.

I didn't call out my other Pokemon for several reasons. I was still unused to the idea of letting multiple Pokemon out of their Pokeballs; it was a force of habit. Plus Feraligatr was not exactly the best team player I had in my party; absolutely ferocious, Feraligatr was all about foul tempers and brute power, much like my Nidoking. Lynn, meanwhile, had her Absol out, presumably our danger detector. If the artillery pounding the Cait Sith Cafe just after we left was any indicator, Absol seemed to have a knack about sensing disasters.

"You two must've been really lucky to have made it into APRO at your age," I said, not knowing what else to say, "I mean...you don't look...old. Or anything..." I realized that I had begun stuttering, and that I was getting really awkward and embarrassed, so I sought to clarify, "...I mean. I've actually done a lot of extra credit work with APRO, interims, during high school. And most of the youngest people there who were doctors were in, like, their late twenties or early thirties. But you look like you're..." I waved a hand in the air, trying to guess her age. Twenty was my best guess, but I at least knew the women didn't like discussing their age much. Thankfully, it was something that Lynn brushed aside with a smile.

"I'm only nineteen," she admitted, "Ysi is half a month younger than I, also nineteen."

I made a rude sound, the sputtering of my lips. I had already known this, of course, that the two of them were not only young but doctors, but having more details that they had achieved such credentials at such a young age made me kind of jealous. Here I was, at the age of eighteen, only preparing to go off into the world to start collecting Gym Badges, and yet here two people were, one year older than myself, and already doctors in the field of Pokemon. "Makes me wish I wasn't born in Owa," I muttered.

Lynn giggled gingerly, apparently quite amused by my reaction. "Ysi had to do a lot more work than the normal person trying to get their doctorate," Lynn said, "Although his father had some influence with the government, they weren't on best terms, so Ysi had take much of the issues into his own hands. While he became a Pokemon doctor at a young age, the path he chose was much more tedious than the usual path in becoming a Pokemon doctor. And, because of his young age, he is viewed with some disdain both other Pokemon authorities and specialists in the field. Still, we're exempt by the IPA's requirement that we must be of the legal age of eighteen to begin our journey as a trainer. However, we were not permitted to challenge Gyms outside our borders, nor were we able to partake in the Emerald Cup Competition before reaching legal age."

What Lynn told me sounded vaguely familiar. I had known from my studies that the IPA granted several countries the right for individuals under the age of eighteen to challenge Gyms within their own borders, many of which were countries with a very small population. However, I was instantly reminded of the nation of Istorius, where the Pokemon League was based. Widely known for its complete political neutrality, Istorius served as the headquarters of many international organizations, probably because they were the only country trusted with that role. One of those international organizations would be the International Pokemon Association. Because Istorius hosted the Emerald Cup, Istorius was granted the right to allow trainers under the age of eighteens to challenge Gyms within their own borders. I wondered if Ysi and Lynn were Istorians.

"I think I've heard your name mentioned before," Lynn suddenly said as she finally stepped out from the shadows, and, instead of a Victorian dress, she emerged in a rather elegant black and red kimono, "You've participated in many activities with APRO years before, yes? Your name, Michael Kitaro, has shown up here and there." Lynn smiled softly, and I found her presence to be soothing, calming, like a mother assuring a child.

"Uh, thanks," I said, not very sure what else to say, "I guess. Uh..." I found myself staring at her kimono and some of the sort curves that the kimono was forming on her body, so I tried to garner some type of excuse, "...what's up with the clothes changing?"

Lynn gave a sweet smile. "It's rather amazing," she said quite cheerfully, "how nice a man in uniform can be to a well-dressed and well-endowed lady. Although I admit I am having guilt attacks for having taken this from an abandoned department store. Still, though, it got the job done, and I found this route of escape. I still prefer my kimono, though; it's much more comfortable and easy to move around in."

I wasn't sure what to make of that, and decided the best way to remain polite was to play dumb. Or stoic. Whatever. "Uh..." I scratched the back of my head, "...Right. I guess you come from a good family?"

Shaking her head in the negative, Lynn replied, "Quite the contrary. I was born in a fishing village to a small family of four. The village population itself could not have exceeded one hundred."

I was quite surprised to hear that; she didn't look like the type who grew out of a fishing village, as her features were too delicate and her skin too soft to look like one growing up outdoors alongside the work of the village. "I wouldn't have been able to guess," I admitted. Near the door, Feraligatr made a low, growling sound, and I flinched, turning my head quickly towards the entrance. But, as it turned out, nothing ever showed up or seemed amiss, so I dismissed it as Feraligatr clearing his throat or something.

"Don't scare me like that," I frowned at Feraligatr. He gave me a snort in return. Not that he was defiant at me or didn't respect me as a trainer; Feraligatrs were vicious, proud, and very wary of which trainers they considered worthy. As of late, Feraligatr seemed to be a bit more unruly than before he evolved from Croconaw, who, despite his viciousness, at least obeyed my commands diligently; while I knew Pokemon inhibited such behavioral traits as they evolved, I wondered if I was going to have to established some sort of authority to Feraligatr soon.

Now, don't get me wrong. Just because I have some vicious Pokemon and spend nearly every day with them doesn't mean I've lost any respect for them. I was only too well-aware of stories of how trainers who mistreat their Pokemon ended up heavily maimed...or dead. And knowing Feraligatr's capabilities for destruction, that meant a lot to me.

Lynn smiled as she looked up and out the windows at the eerily orange night sky. "That was because I hated the water," Lynn admitted, "It was beautiful, but it represented day after day of going out to the harbor to watch over the only profits that came into the village. So I left home, and, after trying to make a living for myself, worked as a live-in maid for the Gavotte family."

"Ah," I said, seeing how the circle came about. It wasn't a full circle yet, but enough to give me a good idea as to how Ysi and Lynn met. Apparently, it was Ysi who was well-endowed and Lynn likely to have been his maid.

"Yes," Lynn continued, "Apparently, my parents did not mind me serving the family that founded Avalon Technologies, so I remained with Ysi for..."

"Wait, wait, wait," my mind had suddenly drawn a pause at two of Lynn's words, a frown creased on my face to show either obvious confusion or obvious disbelief, "What about Avalon Technologies?"

"Avalon Technologies, leading multinational defense contractor with a defense revenue of twenty-three trillion Esean dollars supplying weapons, aircraft, and scientific research to the armies of other nations," a familiar voice suddenly responded in a not-so-quiet manner from the _back _behind a large piled of crates on the other side of warehouse as Lynn, Feraligatr, and I turned towards the origin of the sound, far away from the entrance that Feraligatr was guarding, and, for the first time, I could actually hear disdain in Ysi's voice as he approached from the opposite wall from behind the crates, Absol and Espeon flanking each of his sides. Feraligatr began to growl and move towards Ysi, but I raised my hand before Feraligatr could get up from where he was, signaling for Feraligatr to stop, indicating that Ysi was a friend, and Feraligatr merely grunted once, then went back to the warehouse entrance, standing guard.

Ysi did indeed look disgusted as he walked over to where we were, one of his hands on his hips and quite the unusual scowl on his face. "My grandfather always liked watching a scene from far away where he wouldn't be touched," Ysi muttered, "Making a profit by selling weapons to warring or bitter nations throughout the globe as a defense contractor made him a very rich man. He probably quenched his desire along the lines too, when he decided to spend his spare time coming up with the most effective ways to kill as many people as possible. The blood on his hands was passed on to my father when Avalon Technologies handed executive rights to him."

While I was still trying to overcome my initial shock of Ysi revealing this part of his past about him, I somehow was still irritated at one thing that made me scowl. "Where the hell did you come from?" he snapped, "I thought you were outside scouting."

"Absol sensed danger, Esepon sensed a Feraligatr," Ysi said simply as he approached and gave a casual nod to Lynn, who quietly nodded back, "I could piece two and two together. There's a back door over there..." he cocked a thumb over his shoulder where the crates were. Almost immediately, my pride kicked in and I decided that, if Ysi was going to lecture me about not keeping the back door guarded, I was going to punch him. But Ysi seemed displeased enough about talking about his past, so even if that would've happened, it didn't.

Figuring that I had a moment to spare myself from Ysi's generally indifferent attitude, I did a double-take at the information that had just been presented to me. I was no expert on Avalon Technologies, but the name had appeared on video games and magazines enough for me to realize that Avalon Technologies was a multi-billionaire company involved in the creation of weapons and aircraft for various armies around the world. I knew that Owa actually used some of Avalon's fighter jets for their air force, and that Avalon was supposedly designing a next-generation fighter aircraft for the Esean Federation. That Ysi came out of the family that founded Avalon Industries and had gone off becoming a Pokemon researcher instead was surprising, if not unexpected. Had I known this tidbit of information before I met him, I would've expected him to be a promising young executive on his way as the heir to the Avalon fortune.

If anything, it made me even more suspicious of Ysi. Not only his character, but his presence here in the middle of a war.

Thankfully for the two of us, however, Lynn chose this moment to step in front of a bothered Ysi; Lynn did not touch Ysi, but the way she positioned herself at a short distance in front of Ysi, not too close yet not too far, apparently emitting some sort of calming vibe towards him just by standing in front of him, seemed to calm Ysi down a bit, which set him up perfectly for her next question. Although there was distance, there was also intimacy and familiarity that did not require open or direct signs of affection. And I, watching from the sidelines, curiously wondered with a tinge of bitterness whether or not anyone had ever felt the same vibes Lynn and Ysi were emitting from Karen and I. That I had been about to break up with her earlier in the day still left something not too dissimilar to a sour taste in my mouth.

"Did you find anything?" Lynn whispered, looking at Ysi with those soft eyes made out of gold.

"Yeah," Ysi nodded, "Lynn, your plan about going further into the city to avoid the waters? It won't work; the area further north of us has been contaminated with vile gases. My guess is they've set up several Vileplumes in the area with Sleeping Powder, Poison Powder, Stun Spore, the works. I managed to get close enough with a wet towel to my nose and mouth, but I didn't feel like pushing my luck. An Owan military outfit, the 806th Battalion, is more or less deactivated by the fumes there; guess they didn't expect chemical warfare. However..." Ysi grinned, "...I _did_ get of of these from their backpacks." And Ysi pulled out a radio transmitter from his computer bag, a black block that looked like a rather blocky and large cell phone, like one of those really old "cell phones" from the 1970's. The antenna was also unnecessarily long as Ysi extended it. I had seen the device before, however, in war movies, and knew it to be a powerful trans-radio, capable of receiving messages on specific military frequencies.

Frankly, I wasn't really impressed.

"It's a radio," I stated flatly.

"Indeed," Ysi agreed, "And these radios are just a bit more resistant to all the jamming the Magnetons in the area are kicking up. Plus this is an area where jamming coverage is weak..." Ysi adjusted the radio for a moment before flicking the power button, speaking into the receiver, "...Major Nightshade, this is Sergeant White here. Do you copy? Over."

"Sergeant White?" I looked at Ysi with a cocked eyebrow while wondering what kind of last name "Nightshade" was, and how many parents in the world get high before naming their children. Or Nightshade could've been a last name...which was all the more troubling. I decided not to think too much about it.

A crackle on the radio as the speaker came to life. "This is Major Nightshade," a female voice replied on the radio, and, thank heavens, the transmission was more or less clear, "I copy. Looks like you made it out alright, Sergeant." I fished out my cell phone from my pocket, hoping that it would've picked up a signal, but to no avail; it seemed cell phones were particularly weak to jamming.

"I'm fine," Ysi agreed, "It seems like a secure Owan frequency; we should be free of eavesdroppers. Still, I'm holding you by your word. You're going to have to give up your location, and we'll designate a new rendezvous point."

"Right," the Major, as I decided to refer her as, "I'm currently at Union Station in the Owan Metro, underground."

"Are you alone?"

"Negative. I picked up an Owan civilian along the way; she understands the situation, though, and is with me. I'd appreciate it if she be with us when we meet and try to get out of the city."

"Roger that," Ysi nodded, "Alright, we'll meet you at the Powell Station; that's two stations further south. I suggest you remain underground; I think they've set up several Vileplumes in the area with poison gases on the surface."

"Copy," the Major replied, "Meet you at Powell Station." And, with that, Ysi quickly turned off the radio and shoved it back into his computer bag. And, at that moment, Ysi's Espeon suddenly turned towards the entrance that Feraligatr was guarding, just a few moments before Feraligatr cocked his head towards the entrance and began to growl, as if it sensed something.

"We need to go," Ysi said as he began to head for the back door, motioning for Lynn and I to follow.

"What's wrong?" I asked, not liking how Ysi often rushed things along without giving anyone a good idea about what was happening, "And what was up with that radio transmission?" Regardless, I began following along and motioned for Feraligatr to come, and Feraligatr began to crawl on all fours in our wake.

"I'll keep the long story short," Ysi replied as Espeon followed along and Ysi zapped Absol back into her Pokeball, "While I was checking out the situation up north, that radio was receiving some transmission, which was why I picked it up. Major Amber Nightshade, a Torian military officer, was trying to hail all..."

"Wait, _what_?" I blinked, instantly alert, "A _Torian_ military officer?" Beside me, Lynn, listening attentively, was being trailed by her own Absol and had called forth her own Pokemon, Vaporeon, a good choice in the Meiserland Bay, where water was dominant.

"...Owan soldiers in the area," Ysi continued as if he had not heard me, "Naturally, 806th Battalion wasn't able to answer, but I managed to pick up the radio." 

"Wait a moment," I suddenly snapped, my aggravation towards Ysi coming up to a bursting point as I stepped up in front of him just before we could leave out the back door, "Do you realize that it is _Toria_ that is attacking this city right now? And you've gone ahead to make contact with a _Torian_ officer?"

"Major Nightshade claims that she is defecting to Owan forces, and has valuable information that explains why Toria has attacked Meiserland," Ysi said in a deliberately slow voice, not very pleased that I was in his way, "She says she's currently being pursued by Torian forces, who are looking out for her. I did not reveal our positions or names to her, and made her believe that we are survivors from the 806th. However, the transmission was not clear enough for me to make out where she was; that, and I thought we needed some time to set up a meeting point where we would all be on neutral ground to prevent an ambush. She's not comfortable with revealing the information on the radio, and wants to have someone familiar with the city to escort her out. Now, if you don't mind me, we need to go. _Now_."

I wasn't exactly pleased with the way Ysi was rushing things, always looking like he's in one hell of a hurry. "What about 'proceeding carefully'?" I demanded, "What's the rush?"

Ysi grimaced, looking at the front entrance behind him around the crates. "While I was headed back," Ysi muttered, "I saw a few Fearows in the sky, Torian formation. I'm not sure if they spotted me, but, if they did, I'm betting they've already contacted a few Torian soldiers in the area. I do not feel like tangoing with soldiers at the moment, and..."

Before Ysi could finish, however, an explosion suddenly thundered from the warehouse's front entrance, and we ducked and looked just in time to see the main entrance explode and collapse. Even as the metal doors came crashing down, I saw three figures about fifty meters away, dressed with no bulletproof armor and holding only a pistol. I recognized them as Torian special operatives, trained to operate fast and behind enemy lines. While they're usually underarmed and outnumbered, they were also one of the only soldiers who carried Pokeballs into battle.

Which explained the dropping of my spirits when I saw that they had Pokemon out already. Lots of Pokemon. True, there was a Voltorb that had already self destructed and blasted off the entrance completely, but we were still looking at a Fearow, a Machoke, a Magneton, a Rhydon, two Houndooms, and two Mightyenas.

To put it simply, we were greatly outnumbered.


End file.
